Cornucopia
by jaded river hussie
Summary: Thanksgiving is their first major holiday without Leena. Pete tries his best to make it work. After all, they're still a family. Post-4.10 We All Fall Down. Ensemble fic.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters nor anything else related to the show.

**A/N:** Reviews are love! :-)

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"This has always been one of my favorite things about Thanksgiving," Myka said with a nostalgic smile as the televising of the Macy's parade began.

Claudia glanced up from her laptop. "Meh. It's okay."

"Oh, come on, Claud," Steve prodded.

"I don't understand standing out in the cold for hours on end to watch something in person that you can just watch from the warmth and comfort of your own home on TV."

"I bet you'd feel differently if you were there, Claud," Myka said with a smile, curling her legs under her as she turned her focus back to the TV.

"If you say so."

"I guess Pete's favorite part would be the food, huh?" Steve asked.

Claudia and Myka snickered.

Myka frowned after a moment. "Speaking of which...where is Pete?"

Claudia shrugged. "I dunno. I haven't seen him since we got back from the Warehouse last night."

"That's strange."

"Did he go home?" Steve asked.

Myka glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes. "That's doubtful. Unless he went to see his sister. But he would have said something."

Suddenly, Claudia sat up, her nose twitching. "Hey, do you guys smell something?"

Myka and Steve sniffed the air.

Myka perked up slightly. "Is that...yams?"

Steve sniffed again. "I think so."

"What the..."

The three of them scrambled up onto their feet and dashed to the kitchen. The sight that greeted them was one so unexpected that they just stood there, their mouths hanging open. In the kitchen, Pete Lattimer was surrounded by pots, pans, casserole dishes, various cooking utensils, produce, and a turkey in a roasting pan sitting on top of the stove.

Pete looked up from stirring something in a mixing bowl, a smudge of flour on his cheek, wearing a "Kiss the Cook" apron. He gulped then gave them a sheepish grin. "Hey guys. What's up?"

"Pete...what are you doing?" Myka asked.

"Cooking?" he replied hesitantly.

Next up was Claudia. "Why?"

Pete opened his mouth then stopped, putting the bowl down. He sighed. "Surprise? It's just...it's our first Thanksgiving without Leena and she always cooked the big meals. I found some of her recipes, so I thought...since we're all here...I just thought that maybe I'd cook for us. I know it won't be exactly the same, but it was worth a try. I haven't set anything on fire yet..."

Big, strong, tough, nearly unflappable Pete, and his heart of gold and good intentions. It filled them all with a sense of warmth and longing. A longing for a good old-fashioned home-cooked meal. A longing for the sense of family that has been absent more often than not since the darkness that took over Artie came into their lives and was subsequently vanquished.

Pete shrugged. "I guess I really just didn't want us to end up like the Quartermaines and have to order pizza."

He was met with blank stares from Myka and Claudia.

Myka tilted her head to the side, squinting her eyes as she wracked her brain. "The who?"

Claudia shook her head slowly. "Yeah, I am not familiar with that reference."

"'Wealthy legacy family on the soap opera _General Hospital_," Steve explained.

A grin formed on Pete's face. "Jinks, my man! Finally, something else we have in common! Hey, did you hear that they might be reviving the Nurses' Ball?"

"It's not going to be the same if Lucy's not there," Steve said.

"I know, right?! And she has to end up in her underwear during the finale!"

Myka and Claudia just watched, baffled at the conversation as Pete and Steve went back and forth discussing their favorite performances.

"I never really cared for _Port Charles _but that first year, I think it was, when the interns did 'Doctor, Doctor,' I gotta say, I really enjoyed that."

As their discussion came to an end, Claudia sneered at Steve, "You watch soap operas? I'm disappointed in you, Jinksy."

He looked slightly miffed. "What? I'm not allowed to live up to a gay stereotype every now and then? Livvie and I would watch the show when we got home from school and during breaks."

"Pardon me," Claudia said, feeling a tad bit bad.

Myka ignored the bickering of the two younger agents and addressed her partner. "Do you need a hand?"

Pete looked around the kitchen, his shoulder slumping. "Yeah. I think I may have bitten off more than I can chew. The turkey's thawed but the stuffing isn't ready so the turkey isn't ready to go in the oven and I'm not entirely sure how long it has to cook for. And the mac and cheese-"

"The yams smell delicious," Steve cut in.

"Oh, God, they do," Claudia agreed as Myka nodded her head.

Pete smiled, feeling relieved. "Really?"

"I can state for a fact that no one's lying," Steve said.

Pete's grin widened and he nodded his head. "Okay, let's do this then." He began delegating duties, "Okay, Claudia onions and celery still need to be chopped for the stuffing. Jinks, the bread needs to be cubed. Myks, mac and cheese..."

"I'm on it," she said, walking to the sink and washing her hands.

"It should only take about three and a half hours for the turkey to cook after we stuff it."

"How many Warehouse agents does it take to cook a turkey?" Claudia asked.

"Does anyone have the number for the Butterball Hotline?" was Steve's question.

"Guys, we've got this," Myka insisted.

"She's right. Between the four of us, we've got this," Pete agreed, even though he felt unsure.

Claudia paused. "What about Artie?"

Pete scoffed, "Yeah, like he'd be any help in the kitchen. No, we'll just call him when dinner's almost ready and if he's Oscar the Grouch, we'll just send you and Steve to the Warehouse to bring him over here. It'll be fine."

The four of them set in their tasks, determined, of bringing a decent meal together, in Leena's memory and in the name of their family. There are a few nicks and burns, tears from onions, and laughter all around, a food fight that leads to raucous laughter and them forgetting all the hardships and loss of the past year.

"I call dibs on the shower!" Claudia exclaimed after Pete put the turkey on the oven.

"Knock yourself out," Pete said. "I'm gonna keep an eye on the food."

"I'll help clean up," Myka and Steve volunteered simultaneously.

"And I will go rouse the beast after I get cleaned up," Claudia said before skipping out the kitchen.

"Good job today, kids!" Pete called out as Claudia left. He sighed and looked around at the mess. "Yep, this is more daunting than cooking."

Myka chuckled. "Steve, you gather and put away, I'll wash," she shoved the dish towel at Pete, "Lattimer, you dry."

"And break on three," Pete said, putting his hand out.

Myka and Steve both looked at him then glanced at each other.

"Break," Myka said flatly. "No more fooling around; we've wasted enough time."

Pete pouted. "Jinks, come on, back me on this one."

Steve shook his head. "No can do, Pete. The sooner we get this place cleaned up, the better."

Pete sighed again. "Fine. Killjoys."

The three of them washed and dried and put away, keeping an eye on the food, catching bits and pieces of the parade.

"So, Steve, shall the two of us, and Artie if he so deems to continue to grace us with his presence, do as men and watch the annual 'Skins versus the Cowboys game after we eat?"

"I don't really watch football, Pete. You know that," Steve reminded him.

"It's one of the great Thanksgiving Day traditions!"

Myka rolled her eyes. "I'll watch it with you."

"Yes!" Pete pumped his fist in the air.

She looked at Steve, a playful smile on her lips. "Please don't make me suffer alone."

"Myks!"

Steve laughed.

Further outside of town, Claudia arrived at the Warehouse. "ARTIE!"

His gruff voice, sounding irritable as always, floated down, "What, _what_, could you possibly want? Why are you here? Why are you bothering me on your day off?"

Claudia claimed the spiral staircase up to Artie's room. "Wow. Someone sounds hangry."

"Hangry? What is that?"

"Anger or crankiness caused by hunger. Hungry plus anger equals hangry. That would be you. Let's go, Grumps."

Artie shuffles across the room and sits down. "Go where?"

"Uh, the B&B. Duh."

"Claudia..."

"Don't 'Claudia' me, Artie." She glared at him, hands on her hips. "Pete has been busting his ass since last night cooking for us, _all of us_, and this morning Myka, Steve, and I pitched in to help him with the rest of dinner. You can't keep brooding and avoiding the B&B, Artie. Stop dwelling on all the bad things that happened. You don't see me dwelling on the fact that if I'd stabbed you a centimeter to the left you'd be dead, do you? No, so suck it up. We might have lost Leena, but we're all grateful that we still have you and each other and we are still a family, goddammit, so get off your ass and come with me to the B&B!"

Artie stared at her for a moment then blinked before snorting. "You sound a little hangry there yourself."

"Maybe I am. Nothing is as exhausting or causes you to build up an appetite as cooking a full meal. Or helping cook that meal. Now hurry up."

Everything about her disposition stated that she was not going to take no for an answer.

Artie groaned. "Fine. Just let me get my coat."

"And I repeat, hurry up so we can at least catch the end of the parade."

"I'm coming, I'm coming. Don't rush me! I don't know if you've noticed, but I don't move as fast as you do."

"How could I not have noticed? As slow as you move, we'll be lucky to make it there before Christmas," Claudia snarked as she walked back down the stairs.

The ride to the B&B was spent mostly in silence, save for the radio and Trailer's occasional barks, Christmas music already filling the airwaves.

Artie stared at the house for a couple minutes then took a deep breath, steeling himself. The first thing he noticed when he walked inside was the aroma and the atmosphere.

Home. Family. Love. Gratitude. Forgiveness.

He stopped in the foyer, in the middle of unbuttoning his coat. "_Pete _cooked?"

Pete jogged into the foyer, trailed by Myka and Steve. "Sure did. Well, the others helped and I couldn't have done it without them. Glad you could make it, Artie."

Myka rubbed her hands together. "So, dinner should be ready in about another hour or so. We were just watching the parade."

"And then it seems we'll be watching football. After we eat," Steve said with absolutely no enthusiasm. He perked up slightly. "Oh, you two will be on cleanup duty."

"It's only fair," Pete added.

"Do you forget that you all work for me?" Artie asked, cutting his eyes at them over the top of his glasses.

Pete shrugged. "Unfortunately, this isn't work related. It's, uh, more of a family thing."

Artie couldn't argue with that and he softened as he finished taking off his coat.

They all settled into the warmth and comfort in the living as they watched the end of the parade, Pete ducking into the kitchen to check on the food every so often. They half-heartedly watched the start of the first football game of the day, with everyone rejoicing when Pete yelled from the kitchen that dinner was ready.

"I've got it," Pete insisted when Myka joined him in the kitchen to help him bring the food out to the table in the formal dining room.

She kept the pot holders in her hands. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Myka."

"Okay," she smiled and set the pot holders down.

"Does he need a hand?" Steve asked when she re-entered the living room.

Myka shook her head. "He's got it."

Several minutes later, beaming and looking proud as can be, Pete stood in the entryway. "Dinner is served."

They followed Pete into the dining room and took their seats at the table. They all glanced at the empty chair where Leena would normally have sat; Artie's eyes lingered, forlorn, at the spot. Claudia reached out, placing her hand over Artie's. He looked at her then at Steve then Myka and then Pete, sad eyes and reassuring smiles. Artie nodded his head, squeezing Claudia's hand before letting go, and cleared his throat.

Home. Family. Love. Gratitude. Forgiveness.


End file.
